He met with that point on the left side of the
tunnel, at three feet from the ground.

I was stirred up with excitement. I hardly dared guess what the
hunter was about to do. But I could not but understand, and applaud
and cheer him on, when I saw him lay hold of the pickaxe to make an
attack upon the rock.

"We are saved!" I cried.

"Yes," cried my uncle, almost frantic with excitement. "Hans is
right. Capital fellow! Who but he would have thought of it?"

Yes; who but he? Such an expedient, however simple, would never have
entered into our minds. True, it seemed most hazardous to strike a
blow of the hammer in this part of the earth's structure. Suppose
some displacement should occur and crush us all! Suppose the torrent,
bursting through, should drown us in a sudden flood! There was
nothing vain in these fancies. But still no fears of falling rocks or
rushing floods could stay us now; and our thirst was so intense that,
to satisfy it, we would have dared the waves of the north Atlantic.

Hans set about the task which my uncle and I together could not have
accomplished. If our impatience had armed our hands with power, we
should have shattered the rock into a thousand fragments. Not so
Hans. Full of self possession, he calmly wore his way through the
rock with a steady succession of light and skilful strokes, working
through an aperture six inches wide at the outside. I could hear a
louder noise of flowing waters, and I fancied I could feel the
delicious fluid refreshing my parched lips.

The pick had soon penetrated two feet into the granite partition, and
our man had worked for above an hour. I was in an agony of
impatience. My uncle wanted to employ stronger measures, and I had
some difficulty in dissuading him; still he had just taken a pickaxe
in his hand, when a sudden hissing was heard, and a jet of water
spurted out with violence against the opposite wall.

Hans, almost thrown off his feet by the violence of the shock,
uttered a cry of grief and disappointment, of which I soon under-.
stood the cause, when plunging my hands into the spouting torrent, I
withdrew them in haste, for the water was scalding hot.

"The water is at the boiling point," I cried.

"Well, never mind, let it cool," my uncle replied.

The tunnel was filling with steam, whilst a stream was forming, which
by degrees wandered away into subterranean windings, and soon we had
the satisfaction of swallowing our first draught.

Could anything be more delicious than the sensation that our burning
intolerable thirst was passing away, and leaving us to enjoy comfort
and pleasure? But where was this water from? No matter. It was water;
and though still warm, it brought life back to the dying. I kept
drinking without stopping, and almost without tasting.

At last after a most delightful time of reviving energy, I cried,
"Why, this is a chalybeate spring!"

"Nothing could be better for the digestion," said my uncle. "It is
highly impregnated with iron. It will be as good for us as going to
the Spa, or to Töplitz."

"Well, it is delicious!"

"Of course it is, water should be, found six miles underground. It
has an inky flavour, which is not at all unpleasant. What a capital
source of strength Hans has found for us here. We will call it after
his name."

"Agreed," I cried.

And Hansbach it was from that moment.

Hans was none the prouder. After a moderate draught, he went quietly
into a corner to rest.

"Now," I said, "we must not lose this water."

"What is the use of troubling ourselves?" my uncle, replied. "I fancy
it will never fail."

"Never mind, we cannot be sure; let us fill the water bottle and our
flasks, and then stop up the opening."

My advice was followed so far as getting in a supply; but the
stopping up of the hole was not so easy to accomplish. It was in vain
that we took up fragments of granite, and stuffed them in with tow,
we only scalded our hands without succeeding. The pressure was too
great, and our efforts were fruitless.

"It is quite plain," said I, "that the higher body of this water is
at a considerable elevation.